Personal Narrative-Country Runner

I step aboard the school bus glancing at my sleeping teammates as I make my way down the aisle. The green illumination of my watch is the only thing lighting the way to my seat. My headphones slip from my ears as I kick a freshman out of my spot. “Front of the bus,” I whisper, careful not to wake the motionless sleeping bodies around me. I set my bag down and readjust my earbuds, but my eyes wander to the time displayed on my phone’s screen. 4:32 A.M. I love being a cross country runner, I think to myself sarcastically. As the bus breaks the morning silence and roars alive, I adjust my bag as a pillow and settle in for the ride. Beginning almost immediately, I am tossed from side to side as we make our journey to the meet. About an hour into the ride I feel a drop of water trickle from my forehead to my chin. Then, two more land on my cheek as I groggily open my eyes. The darkness surrounding the bus is engulfed in a downpour. I reach up and slide the rusty bus window shut. Great, I think, the course is going to be so muddy. The crackle of the bus’s speakers break the silence for my coach to alert us that we will still be racing as planned, queuing a symphony of disappointed groans. Shortly after, we arrive with a jolt as the bus
It moves into my eyes and I squint to mask the sting. I feel a sharp twinge in my foot as one of my competitors digs her spikes into it as we round the mile marker. Nervously, I wipe the condensation from my watch face and check my mile time. Fourteen seconds ahead, I discover happily. As I drive my legs up a hill, the mud proves difficult to navigate uphill. The girl ahead of me kicks dirt at my face, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I try to spit it out. Surging ahead, I pass her as we crest the hilltop. A raindrop plops onto my nose as I open my stride to go downhill. “Come on, Katie! Make some ground up here!” I interpret amongst the dozens of other yelling